


Cats

by BWemesfelder



Category: Horror - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 19:49:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2241291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BWemesfelder/pseuds/BWemesfelder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Norman is a man haunted by his mothers bedridden illness. Her fascination with cats brings Him to a level of unknown madness</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cats

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a friend at work. He came in his eyes red, his face big as a red tomato. He complained all day about his new live in girlfriends cats and how allergic he was. He said their love was to great to tell her not to bring them into the relationship, but his face told his story and I am here to tell my thoughts on the subject through poor young Normans story.  
> Enjoy!

Notes:

I wrote this for a friend at work. He came in his eyes red, his face big as a red tomato. He complained all day about his new live in girlfriends cats and how allergic he was. He said their love was to great to tell her not to bring them into the relationship, but his face told his story and I am here to tell my thoughts on the subject through poor young Normans story.

Enjoy!

 

A huge mansion loomed on top of a hill overlooking the city of Delaware as if it were a vulture waiting for an injured meal to die. The places stone masonic walls stood several levels high as if it were built to reminisce that of a castle of lore. The place held many windows that lay continually dark, as if hiding itself from the prying eyes of the world. At the four corners of the home lay towers, each adorned with blackened wrought iron spires which made them seem as if they were cats claws reaching to scratch out the sky. The great Sandusky river rapidly ran over rapids behind the old home, sending a fine continual mist into the air.

The places dark walls stood moistened with the dew, allowing fungus and molds to overtake its foundation. On all walls ivy reached upward and outward in attempts to suffocate the structure from view. Weeds and unkempt brush made walls to barricade the building from outside forces. The drive leading to the front door now lay in ruins, for the trees around the property had for years allowed their roots to reach up for heat.

Inside this monstrosities walls built by master woodworkers now lay covered at every edifice by webs. The structures floors of polished pine now lay under eons of dust. Every room lay dark, for their windows lay covered in goo. The places grand stairway was the only place dust nor web dared to fall, for footsteps travelled there regularly.

In an upper bedroom at the farthest reach of the front door lay a woman too elderly, too sickly to move. She had been tied to her bed by cancer for close to twenty years. In a library off the parlor among a great library of books sat the woman's only living relative, her son Norman. Norman loved books, he also loved his mother and for years on end had catered up and down those stairs for years answering his mothers every whim. For, when he did not he knew his mother would screech his name insistently til he came.

To the outside world things remained calm, repeatable and sullen. On the inside poor Norman was a mess. He was run down, jealous of the outside world. For, outside people seemed to get out and enjoy life. While he could only go as far as the front porch before his mother, hearing the door, would start screaming for him. Yes, he was able to go out and get fresh air, but he feared his mother and never missed her beckoning call. He felt as if he were a slave in his own home.

Another thing he hated was the house was full of cats, and god how he hated cats. His nose would drain, his eyes would leak and his whole face would swell like a big red tomato every time one was near. He could not get with in twenty feet of a cat without fearing suffocation from the allergic reaction. His mother on the other hand adored cats. She often counted them to Norman as her only friends, her only family.

Oh! how he hated that. What did those awful hairy beasts really ever do for her. Sure, they would purr and catch the occasional mouse to bring to her. But, when she screamed he was the one that had to take it out of her bed and bury it.

Damn! he loathed those cats. The way they'd get under his feet in attempts to trip him when he was running to answer his mothers call. The way they would follow him from room to room. The way they would multiply like rabbits in the shadows of every room. However, sadly he knew there was nothing he could do about it. Norman knew, day in and day out, it was him that took care of his mother not the cats and that used to give home pleasure.

One quiet day Norman was sitting in the library reading a book, minding his own business. The book was on medieval witchcraft and the drowning of cats. For, it read _if a witch dies a cat would, at least in lore, take its place_. He smiled in total agreement to the passage. "The damnable things." He said aloud, laughing at the thought of his mother turning into a cat upon her death. His faith turned disgusted as the thought turned from funny to sickening.

As he sat there brewing in his thoughts one cat, a fat black one, jumped to the table beside him spilling a glass of milk all over the table, book and Norman. As the cat sat lapping the milk then cleaning itself Norman stood angrily. He pounded his fists into his leg trying to calm himself. He cursed the blasted thing under his breath, and the cat just sat there. The thing didn't move. Norman stood shook the book off, trying to shake the milk off as if it were a wet dog. The cat still did not move.

He felt his anger hit a new level, throwing the book across the room he turned to face the cat. And it still did not move. Norman could take no more and as the cat looked up at him they locked eyes. Norman scooped up the cat by the neck and squeezed.

The cat screamed a low growl between low blood curdling hisses. Its claws fanned out and scratched wildly at the room. It caught Norman's arm causing blood to trickle.

He squeezed a little harder until it stopped moving, then its head went sideways and the cat went limp. He dropped it to the floor where he stood. It hit the floor with a thud. At once Norman heard his mothers bell ring, as her voice scratched at the air calling his name.

"Norman, Norman.. I'm cold"

He ran to his mothers aid in slow motion. His legs felt as if they were tree stumps running through mud, uphill. Before climbing the steps he looked back at the dead cat and grinned.

The thought of him doing the same to the old witch upstairs ran track in his mind. Oh! he could feel it in his every fiber, he balled his hands into fist as he stomped up the stairs to a place just outside his mothers room.

After several minutes he made himself relax enough to go inside. His mother sat lying under a heavy layer of warmth, several blankets thick. On top of her lay at least a dozen cats, all snuggled next to her in a tight little ball. Her grey puffy hair stuck out beneath them all.

The room smelled of fresh urine and mold eons thick. He held his breath hoping it would help as he neared the bed beside her. His eyes began to water, his nose began to leak as his face swelled red. He gathered the houses last blanket which lay in cat hair on the floor nearby, he tossed it over the bed.

As the cats crawled from underneath his mother looked as if she had a bad case of worms. He laughed at the thought, as she peeked out from behind the covers. In a tiny creak of a voice she said. "Norman be careful of my kitties, their the only family I have you know."

The cats finally resumed their position next to the old woman and locked eyes on to his. He bent close to kiss his mothers cheek, then stormed from the room slamming the door behind him.

For a long time he stood with his back to the door mocking his mothers words." Be careful of my kitties. I'm cold..." He growled. "You're family. HA! you old goat."

Running down stairs he grabbed a plastic bag from the kitchen and walked into the library to scoop up the dead cat. He had to pry it from the cold wood floor.

When done he took it to the basement and threw it into the family meat freezer, firmly shutting the door he turned to walk back up stairs in hopes of finally finishing his book.

upon reaching the upper landing another cat crossed his path. The cat tripped Norman causing him to fall face first upon the floor.

His lip burst in a spring of blood which dripped before him. The cat scampered ahead, then turned to look back.

Norman stayed prone looking in the cats direction. His eyes grew red with fury. He stood watching the cat eye to eye. If looks could kill the cat at that moment would have turned to dust and blew away in Norman's deep, low catching breaths.

Instead the damnable thing just stood there as Norman pushed him self up. The cats back rose a high arch as it let out an evil hiss.

Norman sprung to his feet. The cat ran possibly knowing its best days were behind it.

Norman stood blood now splattering on the floor in huge puddles. The lip swelled big and red, as Norman cursed the cats his words were now all but audible. He could stand no more.

Running back down the stairs to the basement his mothers words rung in his head like church bells. "My children. My only family. At least they love me." The words circled in his mind. Infuriated he mumbled aloud " That Bitch! You are all dead to me, all of you!"

Off in the distance he heard his mothers bell ring, ignoring it her bell becomes louder, until he can stand no more.

Turning to the left a bookcase carrying a square box. On the box a mouse, and next to that a skull and cross bones. He grabs it, then reaches for a case of wet cat food which lay at his feet.

Mixing it together he runs back upstairs to the kitchen and rings a bell of his own. And as he does the house floods with movement, cats in a matter of minutes lie at his feet eating their fill with the mixed morsels.

Soon the cats wander off woozily, as if drunk. Then one by one they fall over curled in fetal balls. Scooping them up he takes them downstairs and turns on his work station light.

Outside sounds of scissors can be heard. In an hour, the noise switches to that of a electric sewing machine. His mothers bell rings again, this time he hears it and runs to his mothers aid.

Again her grey head sticks out of the blankets, its swiveling back and forth between the walls.

"Norman where my family. have you seen them." She says gingerly. "I'm cold."

Norman smiles in a rebuttal of words " I'm not sure mom where the cats are, I will look for them. OH! by the way I found another blanket while I was downstairs. If you give me a second I will bring it up to you."

She smiled. As he leaves the room, he gently walks down the stairs, turns then heads to the basement. In a moment he brings back a quilt folded in a nice tight bundle.

He gives it to his mother, as she feels it her face turns ashen white. Her features freeze as she realizes what it is. As she reaches for her heart, her breathing ceases and Norman once again smiles happily.

Turning from her bedside he heads down the stairs and out the front door. As he crosses between the un-kept hedges, and through the weeds he comes to a sidewalk. There he meets an old man selling newspaper subscriptions. The old man asks "Sir. does anyone live in that old house on the hill."

Norman breaks out in maniacal laughter, then answers the old man "Sir. I will be darned if I know. I do know there used to be an old lady and her son that lived there once, a long time ago. But, as far as I know there is no one living in that house any more." With that Norman turns and walks along the sidewalk until vanishing into the sunlit sky.


End file.
